experience

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the outrageous red is love and blood,

nevertheless, even the black blooms

if for a rose, so rare to behold,

don’t they all perfume your expectation alike?

don’t we all fancy of only Summer we know

when Winter strikes, colder or just cold?

 

and so, reckon the wild ambers smoldering,

the sparks hovering over the inglenook, domesticated,

the shine of days, the stars of gloaming nights

all dazzle inside, if that is where we stay

indoors, shimmering with spectra of phosphenes

and a glance of flailing limbs through the garden of poppies….

 

©Written Frames, 2018

We see what we have seen, we see how we like it to be seen. Imagining, rehearsing, creating stories of a life within a life; such alterations of destiny…..

 

First time

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we demand ignorance

negotiate over the ‘first time’

a dilettante at recording happenings

as the present segues to the past

in a blink, in a click

 

the tongue slays

burnt stubs rest in ashtray

we smolder to live the mistakes

cinders multiply and the experience stays

 

archetypal complexion of blue skies

always a first time

dark and clouded, it rains

first cry, first love, first ache

fails us, in itself it never fails

 

‘The first’ happens and plays

a buttress for ‘the second’

‘The third’ to lose or gain

 

steps stumble

 

©Written Frames, 2018

 

P.S. The first time moments trigger a will to live this life. This picture was taken on my first ever visit to a beach. It took me 24 years to see the mighty waves sing a lullaby of forever to this frail heart of mine. I surrendered to the beauty of it and there is no single morning after, that I did not wish to wake up by the sound of waters flowing…..